Leaving for Brazil Today

There's something about slipping in and out of countries with the tides that I like. No borders for wave riders. No need to be in a long line two hours before take off. No need to be "randomly" chosen for security screenings. Just grab you anti-sea sickness pills and go, right? Way more complicated than that. Leaving Cap Vert, there's an unexpected cloud of Saudade hovering. Why? Mindelo was charming. A haven between five days of rough seas and two weeks of long sailing. Excellent food, evocative sunlight and that music. It reminds you that everyone has set off on some sort of adventure in their life. Everyone has been moved to say yes, try something new, risk their heart, play with their future. And for every instance of excitement, there is Saudade, a sentiment that is hard to translate, but you know it when you feel it and when you hear it in the music. If I was to poke and prod inside my head right now, I'd say Saudade is that sort of acceptance that you get when you know that things have changed, that you won't ever relate to the people you know and the world around you in the same way, and that you were the one who somehow started everything in motion. Saudade means you keep moving forward knowing that the waves have taken away something behind you. Saudade, Cap Vert. See you soon Brazil.

To Cap Vert!

Thanks, Carlos. Thanks, Sailors' Bar. Thanks harbor mates. See you down south.

A different time scale

Axelle and JB, highly recommended boat-stoppers, Las Palmas

I don't know why, but it appears that people on boats live on a different time scale. We were supposed to spend 4 days in Las Palmas de Gran Canaria and it's been a week and one day now. And even if there is a good chance that we're going to head to Cabo Verde tomorrow at the crack of dawn, it feels both like we just arrived and that we've been here forever. Each of us started his/her little rituals, we met neighbors, we have our favorite boat-hickers passing by every so often, our favorite panaderia (merci, Pierre for daily delivery) and our favorite ice-cream place. It's like we've been here for years, setting up a nice quiet life on a small island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Las Palmas de G. C. is nothing extraordinary I must say, even if there is definitely some charms in the crowd hangin' around. First, people are smiley, friendly and rather helpful. Second, the harbor is full of blue water sailors and boat-stoppers which definitely is not what you meet every day in the street of your hometown (except if you live in Las Palmas G. C., obviously). We told you a couple of time about the blue water sailors, so let's focus on the boat-stoppers, they are a very exciting species.
 The usual boat-stopper is a young, long-haired, hippie-looking male or female. Friendly (very), naive (a little), cool (yo' man) and bare-footed most of the time. They play music on the beach at night, they have sandy sleeping bags (this is an assumption since we didn't try the sleeping bags). They pass by every other day on the pontoons to look for boats that would need an extra hand on the way to the Caribbean. They're ready to do everything on board. Most of them have never really set a foot on a boat,  but they're ready to try. There are individuals but there are a lot of couples, too. They're a huge part of the general feeling of Las Palmas' Darsena Deportiva and they make you feel like you've really gone to some exotic country even if you're still in Europe. As a bonus, they play various kind of musical instruments which are not really instruments but rather "you see, man, it's my way of life, it's my grove, it's my spiritual expression. I can play music for you during the sailing to relax you and make you happy. And develop your inner self..." Yeah, for three weeks in a row with no way of escaping...hum... let me think...

On the road again...

Ah, yes, after a couple of months in Gray Paris with its delicious RER, we flew back to NoLa who was waiting nicely and quietly on the charming island of Porto Santo (Portugal), North-East of Madeira (Portugal também). Tourism ? No, not really since we had a couple (a LOT) to do to get NoLa back to her shipshape state. Anti-fouling paint for instance, which is a weird idea. Basically you paint the bottom of your boat with a super toxic paint so that little guys will not grow on your hull. The stuff is so toxic that the maker recommends that you don't even try to clean your brushes, rolls and trays because... well, it's toxic and would do you no good. Ah, and you should not even have a sandwich while you're painting since you could be doing to yourself exactly what you're doing to the little guys that could eventually think your boat's hull could be a good spot for a picnic. And then you put the boat in the water and you're a happy sailor convinced that you're super eco-friendly because you sail around the world instead of flying a plane. Talk about contradiction... Anyway, we switched from super toxic white to super toxic black. Which gave NoLa a very penguin look for a  brief moment and I was quite happy about it because I have this particular fondness for penguins. But the First Mate said: "I will not go around on a penguin boat. You are the only penguin in my life." And believe it or not, sometimes even the captain has to bow in front of the Force of Nature.

Porto Santo (33.16.50 16.18.30)

Happy New Year from Porto Santo. And now the adventure begins, again. NoLa is back!